Devotional
by Asher's Legion
Summary: When Buffy gets kidnapped by an hysterical High Priest of a Cult of Set, the Scooby Gang and Angel Investigations must team up together to rescue her. Will they succeed? Who will be lost in the ensuing battle? Will there be more than one kind of battle taking place, as Spike and Angel both vie for Buffy's affections? (Spuffy) [Angel Post "The Girl in Question"/Buffy Post "Chosen"]
1. Chapter 1

As far as he was concerned, time couldn't be moving more slowly. His sense of dread magnified every moment that he waited on the phone, whether because of who was about to pick up the phone or because of the dire situation he was calling about, it was unclear. He had been transferred three times already and was prepared to hang up the phone and book a flight-on the presumption that it would be faster-when a cheery, youthful, feminine voice answered the phone-a voice that would never see the aging of mortality. "Hello, Wolfram and Hart; Harmony speaking. How many I help you?"

"I would like to speak to Angel, please. The last person I spoke to said I would have to go through you before I could contact him directly," he managed, flinching, his impatience tightly hidden behind years of practice and a finely tuned British accent.

"Mr. Giles, is that you?" Harmony asked, amusement clear in her still teenage-sounding voice.

"Yes, Harmony, it is. Now if you could kindly-" he tried to interject, but she only seemed to notice the first part of what he said.

"How are you doing? I heard you guys destroyed Sunnydale! Wher-"

"It is urgent, Harmony," Giles managed to interrupt, recalling his days as a librarian not-so-fondly.

"I heard you guys are in Italy now," she continued, even through his rude interruption. "I always wanted to go to Italy. You know, my Blondie Bear promised to bring me one day... Well, that was before he staked me..."

Giles sighed deeply and began to clean his glasses. "I wasn't aware of that, Harmony, but seeing as how Spike is dead, it seems a rather moot point. To address matters concerning the living, could I speak to-?"

"Dead? He's not dead anymore. That was *so* last month. Here, see for yourself." Harmony waved Spike over to her desk and readily handed him the phone.

Giles rolled his eyes and sighed inwardly. Of course, if anyone was to come back from the fight on the Hellmouth it would have been Spike-Giles' never-ending pain in the arse.

"Who is it, Harm?" could barely be heard over the phone. Harmony shoved the phone at him and grinned, content to keep the mystery to herself.

"'Ello?" Spike said into the receiver, leaving no doubt in Giles' mind whose voice it was.

"Hello, Spike," Giles ground out, tersely. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair and slumped down in a nearby chair.

"Giles?" Spike asked, shocked. There was no end to phone calls here, but none of them were for him, and none of them should have been from Rupert Giles. "What d'ya want, old man?"

"As I've been telling everyone in your office for the last 30 minutes, I urgently need to speak to Angel," He managed to explain with nary a curse, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Last time he had needed to contact Angel had been much easier, and he fondly wished for those days.

"Can't help you out. He's out on a mission-some big white-hat thing. Helpin' the helpless and all that. Harmony can-"

"No, no Harmony. Please, God, no more Harmony," Giles replied swiftly, cutting Spike off mid-sentence at the mere mention of her name.

"Then I guess you're going to have to talk to me," Spike grinned, knowing that, for once, he would have information before Peaches. "What's the deal, Rupes? Need someone to ride to the rescue to save you and yours before time runs out and the world turns to ruins?"

"Well, uh, yes... We do." Giles sighed deeply, preparing to tell Spike what had happened.

"So, you're-what-rounding up the cavalry?" Spike asked, gobsmacked. Giles was the last person he expected to ask Angel for help. Why wasn't Buffy making the call to her heartthrob herself? Maybe there was trouble in paradise after Wolfram and Hart changed hands. On second thought: as far as he knew Buffy was living in sex-crazed bliss with the Immortal and was refusing to talk to Angel until further notice. Not that Angel seemed to mind-he seemed to be getting along quite swimmingly with that werewolf chick.

"Why-uh-yes. Actually, we could use all the help we could get." Giles cleared his throat, an old habit of his when talking about difficult subjects, of which asking Spike for help was certainly one. And losing his Slayer was another.

"What's the sitch, Watcher?" Spike asked, his curiosity piqued.

"You know I wouldn't be calling and asking for your help-or Angel's for that matter-if it weren't a matter of utmost importance. I am in need of a scryer." Giles tried to dodge the true answer to Spike's question.

"Why don't you ask the witch? Or do it yourself, for that matter?" Spike pried, sensing that the old man was hiding something.

"Willow is more than occupied at the moment and I can't seem to pinpoint her location." Giles sighed and blew out the candle in front of him, watching as the tiny lights on the map suddenly blinked out-indicating all the Slayers in Europe at the moment. "I'm hoping that if Wesley and I combine our talents, we could find her. And get her home safe before something terrible happens."

"Who are we looking for?"

"Buffy."


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you mean, we're looking for Buffy? What happened to her?" Spike exclaimed.

"Buffy and one of the new Slayers, Satsu, were out on patrol. Apparently, they were attacked by the Cult of Set. Satsu managed to evade capture and reported back to us what happened. I doubt they had any interest in her in the first place if she managed to escape them." Giles explained, quietly losing patience as he knew he would have to explain this again once he spoke to Wesley and Angel.

"So, you're saying that if Buffy is still alive, it's a trap?" Spike groaned, internally. He'd dealt with the Cult of Set once before, and wasn't looking forward to another encounter.

The Cult of Set was known for their brutal efficiency, and they were not known for leaving survivors. They were said to have powerful magicks granted to them from the Egyptian gods themselves: the ability to turn into human sized snakes, remove their hearts to avoid staking, and even come back from the dead.

"Um, yes, you're probably right about that," Giles agreed, grimacing at the thought of fighting such an infamous group of vampires.

"So we take the bait then? Die bravely rescuing the damsel in distress?" Spike grinned, anticipating a chance to one-up Angel-not unlike the time when he died to save the world.

"'Cowards die many times before their deaths, The valiant never taste of death but once,'" Giles quoted, looking over at his bookshelf to see his copy of Julius Caesar.

"William Shakespeare never met us lot," Spike mentioned, derisively. "Right, then. I'll inform Wesley of what's goin' on, get us on a jet, meet you in Italy. Sound like a plan?"

"Yes, that sounds good. Please inform Angel when he gets back, also." Giles made sure to include Spike's grand-sire, knowing that they would need all the help they could get. "I've probably never said this before, but thank you, Spike."

"You're bloody welcome, old man."

* * *

"Goddess of the soaring moon, grant to me this simple boon. Show to me what I must see, reveal to me that which shall be." Wesley and Giles chanted solemnly. Giles slowly poured water into a silver bowl as Wesley retrieved three drops of fresh black ink and dropped it into the water. "Let me see. Let me see!"

Wesley dipped a small quartz crystal on a leather thong into the mixture and watched as it turned black, absorbing the ink. Careful not to spill any of the water, Wesley carried the quartz over to the map of Europe that he had placed by his side and watched as the crystal gently swayed in the air of its own volition. Just as the spell seemed like it was about to fade, the crystal tore itself from Wesley's grasp and embedded itself in the map in Greece-in a town called Mykonos.

"Oh, thank God she's alive," Giles sighed in relief, taking off his glasses to clean them furiously.

"She's a strong woman, you taught her well. She handles herself extremely well for a girl her age," Wesley complimented.

"Thank you," Giles said as they both got up to tell Spike and Angel what they found.

"She's in Mykonos, Greece," Wesley reiterated for Spike and Angel.

"Time to round up the calvary, eh, Rupes?" Spike jumped to his feet in a seat across the room and stalked towards the door. "No time to waste."

"Actually, Spike," Wesley started, "if Buffy is still alive, that means they need her for something-which means we have some time to figure out what exactly they need her for and what we're up against so we're not going in there blind."

Giles and Angel both nodded, Angel still seated behind Giles' desk and Giles pacing in front of his books, obviously trying to figure out which books were most needed for research.

"We should all take a book," Wesley strode up towards Giles and leaned forward to read the text of the books in front of him. He, along with help from Giles, pulled 4 books off the shelves: The Secrets of Akhu, Libellus Aegypti, Heretical Setite Worship of the 19th Century, and Serpent Magi of the Nile River Valley. Wesley handed out the books, keeping the largest book for himself, and sat down and buried himself in the thick vellum paper.

With one sigh from Spike, everyone sat down to do their research.


	3. Chapter 3

"The Ascending Serpent…" Spike mumbled to himself. "Well that doesn't this sound like a barrel of fun," Spike's eyebrows furrowed in concentration and his lips pressed into a single like as he continued to read. "'Ey, I think I've got something," he remarks to Giles, standing up and striding over to the older man. He placed the book in Giles' lap and pointed to the section describing The Ritual of the Ascending Serpent.

"Dear Lord," Giles whispered under his breath. "To become a true child of Set, one must bathe in the blood of the dual champions of light," he said to the others in the room. "Someone is trying to take the form of Apep, the Serpent Lord of Chaos."

"Another apocalypse to be averted," Spike rolled his eyes and slouched back down in his chair across the room.

"This serpent, Apep, is there anyway to kill him, if the worst is to happen?" Angel asked, closing his book and joining Giles to look at the volume he had in his hands. Inside the book depicted Apep as a giant serpent, with a head of flint.

"Once he reaches apotheosis, well, it is said that Apep is over 15 meters long…" Giles read, dully. "If it comes down to a fight between us and the reincarnation of Apep, the world may very well be plunged into chaos forever."

"Then we go and rescue Buffy before this ritual goes down," Spike suggested. He was already tired of this conversation and it didn't seem likely to let up anytime soon. He gruffly tapped a cigarette out of his pack and lit it with one smooth stroke to his Zippo.

"The ritual cannot be completed without a second champion. The Cult of Set clearly believes that Buffy is the first champion, but who is the second?" Wesley asked in a near whisper from his chair in the corner of the room.

"Angel is the next logical guess," Giles concluded.

"Or maybe Faith," Angel agreed that he was the second champion, but didn't want to be left out of the fight-nor did he want to concede that maybe Spike was a champion for the Powers that Be.

"'Ey, what about me 'ere? I died to save the world. That's gotta count for something! More than that rogue Slayer has done, at least." Spike was peeved at the oversight. Was nothing ever good enough for these ponces? He was good enough for Buffy to call a champion, he had to remind himself of her words the night before he had sacrificed himself.

"Yes, Spike, but Faith didn't spend over a century tormenting Europe before deciding to change sides all for the love of a woman," Giles scolded.

"If I recall, Angelus did most of the tormentin'," Spike prodded, taking a deep drag on his cigarette and blowing it out in front of him with a deep sigh. "As for the reasons I've chosen to become a white hat and all, I've got my reasons, and Buffy wasn't the only one. If you think I'm just going to go back to my evil ways without her, you've got it all wrong. I've changed, and I don't need your validation to know that." Spike was on his feet and moving towards the door without a backwards glance before the group even had a chance to react to his speech.

* * *

Buffy woke to the sharp burn of cord digging into the soft flesh of her wrists where they were tied behind her back and a dull ache between her shoulder blades. The strong scent of wet dirt and the soft sound of a waterfall assaulted her senses. She struggled to stay still and not attract any attention while she tried to recall what had happened the last time she had been conscious.

"Well, well, well, Sleeping Beauty is awake," came an unfamiliar voice from behind her.

Buffy licked her dry lips and tried to turn her prone form towards the voice, but only succeeded in pressing her face into the soft ground and flopping like a fish. A firm hand gripped the cord that was binding her wrists together and hauled her into a sitting position.

"You're not exactly Prince Charming," Buffy retorted as the owner of the strange voice knelt in front of her.

The scars on his face seemed to pucker and turned white as he scowled at her, displeased with her at the first words out of his mouth. He lifted his hand to strike her, but was interrupted by another voice behind him, this one female.

"She has a mouth on her, doesn't she? At least she'll die bravely," commented the woman. "Untie her, it is past time she eats," she ordered, with the stature and air of confidence of nobility. The tray in her hands was held gracefully between long, elegant fingers and smelled of roast meat. Buffy drooled slightly, her stomach clenching in anticipation of food. "There are guards posted at the entrance, and you're deep in a system of caves. If you try to escape, we'll tie you back up and force feed you. Are we clear?"

Buffy nodded in agreement, knowing she hadn't eaten in days and wouldn't have the strength to fight off the two vampires in the room without any weapons, let alone the ones posted at the entrance. Her restraints were cut and she gladly rubbed her wrists and stretched her aching limbs.

"Join me," the woman gestured to a table on the near side of the room and places her tray of assorted meats and cheeses down.


	4. Chapter 4

Without caution, Buffy approached the table across from the strange woman, suddenly filled with the urge to sit with her. She sat down and picked up a piece of cheese and smelled it, as if she could detect any poison.

"Pardon my manners, but most vampires don't tie me up and feed me." Buffy blushed, realizing her innuendo and recalling another time when a vampire who shall not be named had done just that. Luckily, her blush had gone unnoticed as she popped the chunk of cheese into her mouth.

"Your manners do not concern me," the vampiress intoned vaguely, her eyes distant.

"What does concern you?" Buffy asked the obvious question.

There was a long pause before the woman continued: "I am concerned with your well being while you remain here as my guest."

"Guest?" Buffy asked, incredulously. "I was kidnapped!"

"I did not believe you would come here willingly, and as it is said, 'It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.'" Her medium jet black hair framed a benevolent smile; the scarred vampire behind her laughed; there would be no asking for forgiveness.

"Who are you?" Buffy demanded.

"Eat, my dear," the woman chided, making intense eye contact and pushing the tray closer to the Slayer. "My name is Ma'at; this is Isfet." Ma'at gestured to the vampire behind her.

Buffy did as she was told, sweeping her hair from her eyes and digging into the feast laid in front of her with enthusiasm. "And what do you want from me?" She managed through a mouthful of food.

"You will discover that in time," Ma'at beamed at Buffy again, her smile making Buffy feel at ease. "Now, this will be your room for the time you are with us."

She gestured at the corner of the room opposite them. "Your every need will be attended to, you need but to ask. There is your bed, past it there is a pool of water for you to bathe in. Clothing will be provided for you. If you are in need of anything, ask the guards at your door." Ma'at rose from the table and turned to go, Isfet following close behind, leaving Buffy suddenly alone and afraid again.

She slowly rose to her feet, hesitant to disobey Ma'at's order to eat her food, and walked towards the bed. Buffy shook her head and pulled the duvet back before crawling into bed to sleep off an impending headache.

* * *

She'd been having the same dream for weeks.

Her hair was the color of coal as she sat upon a bench of stone, her feet neatly tucked under her. In her right hand she held a scepter and in her left she held an ankh. On each arm, there were ostrich feathers extending from elbow to wrist and atop her head resided an ostrich feather crown.

A man lounged below her on the floor, facing away from her to gaze at the crowd that had gathered in front of them. They were all dressed in the ways of ancient Egyptians, long dark hair flowing. There was a man with the head of a crocodile and a man with the head of an ibis; a woman with the head of a cat and a woman with the head of a lioness; there was a woman with a scorpion affixed atop her head and another woman carrying a sun disk between long bovine horns.

No one said anything, but stared at the man on the floor and what was in his hands: a snake-a snake the color of night itself. The serpent entwined itself around and around the man, as if draping itself across its most favorite of trees.

A cacophonous noise rose up from the members of their audience at once. Buffy imagined that the noise could be heard all the way down in the Nile delta. She struggled to hear what any of them were yelling as tears welled up in her eyes. She looked down at the man below her and suddenly remembered his name.

"Isfet?" She asked hesitantly, hoping he would hear her above the noise.

Tonight, this dream was different. He looked up, and she was suddenly staring into the face of familiar sharp cheekbones and haunting blue eyes. "Yes, my Queen?"


	5. Chapter 5

At the sight of Spike's face, Buffy woke with a start. Confusion and sadness marred her features as her eyes threatened to spill over with tears. Seeing his face again in perfect clarity (the only way she could see it since she had no pictures) made her catch her breath in her throat. She had realized too late what he meant to her, and deeply regretted losing him-regretted that he didn't believe that she loved him. She had spent too much of her life comparing everyone to Angel-her first love-to recognize that her feelings for Spike were just as valid, only different. She sighed deeply and wiped the tears from her eyes before sitting up in bed, noticing for the first time that the vampiress was standing at the entrance to her room, a tray of food in her grasp.

"What's wrong, dear?" Ma'at asked, walking towards the center of the room to place the tray on the table.

"Nothin'," Buffy mumbled, wiping at her face and tossing the duvet away from her body. She slapped her feet on the hard packed ground and stood up. She took a deep breath and walked towards the table, her stomach driving her feet towards the smell of warm breakfast.

Smoked pork with fried eggs and a butter-cream and brine cheese greeted her as she sat down at the table. Greek coffee was served along with her meal and the rich aroma immediately perked her up.

"I used to have the dreams, too," Ma'at said, cryptically. Opting to share more in the hopes that Buffy would open up, she smiled fondly before continuing. "The Slayer dreams," she clarified.

"You… were a Slayer?" Buffy asked, a suspicious tone to her voice.

"Yes, before I was turned." Ma'at looked down at the table, as if she were ashamed. "Isfet was my lover and while I was out one night on a hunt I was gravely injured. I would not have made it through the night unless he had found and saved me."

"I wouldn't consider that saving," Buffy nearly growled. "You don't have a soul. You're against everything you were meant to protect."

"You're wrong about that, Buffy. I am still the same as I was then. I never lost my soul." Ma'at looked into Buffy's eyes, trying to project how truthful she was being.

"If you never lost your soul…"

"Neither would you. You can't be a Slayer without your soul, no matter how much the demon inside you rages against it." Ma'at intoned, struggling to keep her voice neutral.

"So all Slayers would...? How many of you have there been?" Buffy asked, shocked.

"Few, and even less once the Council got a hold of them." Ma'at said, sadly.

Buffy frowned and looked down at her food, unsure what to say. Finally: "I'm sorry I was under their thumb for as long as I was."

"Me too," Ma'at whispered, laying a hand atop Buffy's on the table. "Let me leave you to your thoughts," Ma'at said, standing up and turning to leave.

"I would like to hear more, at another time," Buffy said quickly, before she had time to leave.

"Of course." Ma'at smiled cheerfully to herself before leaving.

* * *

Buffy spent the day curled in bed, falling into and out of sleep in between meals brought to her by random servants, whose names she didn't bother to get.

The dream started the same way the last one ended: "Yes, my Queen?" Spike asked looking up at her through a haze of fine black eyelashes. He reached out his hands for hers and pressed his lips feather-light against her knuckles. Her stomach clenched tightly with desire and he grinned slyly.

He stood, leading her with him, and slowly walked down the stairs towards the back of the room. Ignoring the protest of the gods among them, Buffy followed. They approached a lavishly decorated bedroom, and Buffy was in awe as she saw the flowing red and golden sheets covering the large bed in the center of the room. Spike led her to the bed, hitching up her rust-colored skirt to firmly grasp her thighs. He gently lifted her onto the bed, leaning forward to brush his pale lips against her rosy lips. His hands traveled in lackadaisical circles over her thighs as his lips explored hers.

When his cool tongue beseeched entrance, she granted it willingly, greedily entwining her tongue with his. With aching slowness, his fingers crept up her thighs until reaching her apex. He ran his fingers over her nether lips with a gentle ferocity before parting her lips to firmly stroke her clit. She gasped against his mouth loudly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding on as she trembled. They continued like that, his mouth moved to affix itself to her neck and her mouth greedily gulped down air just to moan loudly again.

"So close," she mumbled, near-incoherent with pleasure.

At those words, he moved his fingers off her clit and placed them at her entrance, slowly sliding them into her slick entrance. His thumb once again began to work her clit as his fingers began to work her g-spot. Biting down with human teeth, he brought her to orgasm.

She woke with a scream of pleasure that echoed down the cavernous hallways.


	6. Chapter 6

The hardest thing about being in love with Buffy was definitely her friends, of that Spike was sure. And none of them were as much of a thorn in his side as Xander and Giles. The women he would have been able to win over, eventually, but the men just wouldn't accept him as one of their own-and he couldn't blame them.

In hindsight, he knew he didn't deserve Buffy's affections when he was soulless. After what he had tried to do to Buffy… well he wasn't surprised that there were still hard feelings and mistrust. He knew he had much to atone for, including that incident, but so did Angel. Where Giles treated Angel with mutual-if grudging-respect, Spike was still treated as a nuisance.

Spike swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him, his leather coat flapping around his legs as he made long strides past the outside hallway and down the stairs. He used the flat of his foot to open the door at the bottom of the stairwell and leaned against the white brick wall. Sighing, he flicked open his Zippo and lit a cigarette, puffing on it hard and deep-feeling the hot air burn down into his lungs.

Nothing was good enough for Xander-and he had long ago dedicated his life to antagonizing the boy for his devout jealousy towards Buffy's exes-but he hadn't given up on winning the respect of Buffy's only remaining parental figure.

Spike tossed his cigarette on the ground, stubbed out the ember with the tip of his boot, and tapped another cigarette out of his pack when a taxi pulled up in front of him. A head of dark brown hair leaned forward in the seat suggestively to pay the cab driver before stepping out of the car.

Dressed in head-to-toe black-on-black, Faith planted her boots firmly on the ground in front of Spike and grinned, dark lipstick accentuating full lips and bright white teeth. "Can I bum a light?"

Spike cocked his head to the side and smiled, flicking his Zippo to life and holding the light to the tip of his new cigarette before lighting hers. "Well, well, well, isn't it my second favorite Slayer?"

"Second?" Faith pretended to pout, before bursting out into another grin. She leaned against wall near Spike, propping her heal against the rough brick. She took a drag off the cigarette and blew it out towards her feet. "I heard your favorite Slayer was in trouble."

Spike scuffed his boot on the ground and growled. "Yeah, some big apocalypse. Were you filled in?"

"A big snake, right? Champions for good?" She laughed, derisively. "Don't know why they think it's me. Not after everything I've done. I still have a lot to atone for."

"They're giving you another chance," Spike said, jealousy tinging his voice. "I wouldn't look a gift horse in the face, luv."

Faith grimaced and finished her cigarette in a final long drag, stubbed it out on the wall and tossed the butt to the ground. She exhaled through her nose with a sigh. "Time for me to make my entrance." She opened the door with a swish in her hips and walked through it. "You coming?" She tossed over her shoulder.

Begrudgingly, Spike tossed his cigarette to the ground and followed behind her.

* * *

Waking with a start, Buffy moaned, gripping the sheets as the orgasm rocked her body. Legs shaking, she wiped the sweat from her dewey forehead, her hair plastered to the sides of her face. She rubbed her thighs together, feeling the hot dampness dripping down her lips. She sighed and slowly relaxed her body, releasing her grip from the sheets and stretching her arms above her head. Her pebbled nipples strained against the thin cotton fabric of her shirt, causing her to moan again, softly. She laid like that for a few mins before there was a knock on the door to her room.

"Good morning, Buffy," Ma'at said through the door, polite enough to know not to enter before Buffy was ready.

"Good morning," Buffy replied, sitting up in bed and trying to make herself look respectable. She combed her fingers through her hair and hopped out of bed, her stomach growling at the smell of hot breakfast.

Ma'at entered the room, tray once again held in her elegant hands. She approached the table with delicate steps and stat down on the bench, her feet tucked neatly beneath her.

"I've been having dreams of you, of your life," Buffy realized, gently placing her feet on the ground and striding up to the table and sitting down across from the woman, looking intently into her face. "Who were you, in life? I know you were a Slayer, but it's more than that, isn't it?"

"I was the daughter of a noble family, and so was Isfet. My father was the head of the Children of Osiris and Isfet's father was the head of the Cult of Set. They never saw eye-to-eye and my father refused to allow Isfet to court me, afraid that I would become inducted to the cult of his father. Isfet was the only person besides my watcher that knew of my calling. Of course, we continued to see each other in secret. On the day of Isfet's 18th birthday, they inducted him into the Cult of Set, where he became a vampire."

"He knew you were the Slayer and he became a vampire anyway?" Buffy asked, bewildered.

"His father would have killed him," Ma'at said, sadly. "I wish things had been different, but wishing doesn't change anything." Ma'at's strong, regal shoulders shook slightly, as if she were holding in a great burden. Tears shone in her eyes and she turned her head away to discreetly wipe them away.

"What do you want with me?" Buffy asked quietly, hoping that in her moment of weakness, Ma'at would reveal her true colors, rather than the majestic veneer she always seemed be wearing.

"What the bad guys always want," Ma'at replied, her demeanor changing immediately. "To end the world."


	7. Chapter 7

"Lie down, my sweet," Ma'at cooed, a basin of fresh water gripped in her strong, but delicate hands. Placing the bowl on the bedside table, she gently pressed Isfet into the bed. With a sigh, she picked up the cloth from the basin and wiped at the slowly widening open wound across Isfet's face, hearing him hiss in agony. "It will all be over soon," Ma'at said, her voice tinged with sadness. This is the only way to save him, she tried to reassure herself. Thinking of the poor woman held captive, the woman that would have to die to save the man Ma'at loved, she shuddered. Sighing and shaking her discomfort, Ma'at continued to clean the rot away from Isfet's body, staying silent until he finally spoke.

"You seem upset," Isfet said. "More so than usual."

"You know how I feel about this ritual," Ma'at shrugged gracefully, focusing on her duty before folding her hands in her lap. She knew it was futile, but she needed to try to convince him that Buffy didn't need to die. She was growing fond of the woman and Ma'at didn't need the Slayer's death on her conscious.

"And you know how I feel about rotting to death," Isfet replied with a sneer.

"I could speak to my father. If the Children could reverse it someway-"

"We spoke on this already. I am not going grovelling to your father." Isfet sat straighter in bed, a sharp gasp escaping his lips, before he squared his shoulders. "We will solve this on our own. And we're halfway there already." They had discussed the possibility of finding other options multiple times before, but Ma'at suspected that Isfet had other motives for completing the ritual, thus her pleas fell on deaf ears.

"Of course, my love." With a bow of her head, Ma'at finished cleaning his wounds and stood up to leave.

* * *

"I don't like this plan," Wesley complained, his carry-on gripped tightly to his chest as he weaved through the crowded aisle on the passenger plane. He checked his ticket, spotting that he was in seat 37, and made his way to his seat.

"Well, luckily, you don't have to," Giles said, bemoaned to find that he was seated besides Wesley, in seat 38. "And you didn't have to come along," Giles said under his breath.

Prepared to brood, Angel slipped past Giles and, ignoring his seat number, made his way to the back of the plane to sit in one of the single seaters.

"Too good to sit with the rest of us?" Faith asked as she slid into the window seat across from Giles, with Spike right behind her.

"Of course he is. The poof is always too good for us." Spike said.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats as we prepare for takeoff." came over the speakers as the seatbelt light came on above everyone's heads. Within a few minutes, they were up in the air, the cool night winds buffering at the windows. "You are now free to move around the cabin."

Spike smiled as the attendant walked down the aisle towards him, prepared to order himself something to drink.

"It's completely impossible to get drunk off of these damned things," Spike muttered to himself, thirty minutes later, a tiny bottle of whiskey in his hand. Spike drank down the contents of the bottle and lined it up on the tray in front of him with the other seven empty bottles. "Another one, hostess," he slurred, clearly intoxicated.

"I'm afraid I have to cut you off, sir," the hostess replied, pushing the cart of beverages past him and further down the center aisle of the airplane. The airplane lurched slightly, suffering from a bit of turbulence, and Spike gripped the seat tightly, hearing the plastic groan in protest.

"What d'ya mean, you have to cut me off!" Hearing a muffled chuckle from the seat beside him, Spike turned to glare at the brunette Slayer to his left. " 's not funny," Spike said, petulantly.

"Oh, yes, it is," Faith laughed aloud this time, a broad smile across her face.

The plane lurched again and a child across the aisle screeched loudly, kicking the seat in front of him-the seat in which Giles happened to be seated. "We'll be in Mykonos soon."

* * *

Ma'at casually walked down the hallway to Buffy's chambers, a short sword at her waist, a spear tied across her bad, and a tray of food once again held in her hands. Her hair looked a mess and her clothing was disheveled. She reached the doorway and smiled beautifully at the guards.

"Isfet commanded that you not be allowed in with the Slayer," one of the guards said, standing up straighter despite the fear clearly etched on his face.

Ma'at made eye contact with him and continued to smile. There was nothing either of the guards could do to keep her from getting into that room. "Drop your weapons and go find something else to do," Ma'at ordered to both of them, her voice quiet, but stern. At her command, they both dropped their weapons and turned to walk down the hallway and around the corner.

Ma'at knocked on the Slayer's door politely and entered without preamble. She swiftly walked to the table and put the tray down.

"How dare you-" Buffy began.

"Be quiet," Ma'at hissed, her voice edged with fear. If this was going to work, they would need to be as quiet and as quick as possible. "We need to get you out of here," Ma'at whispered, her hand going to her belt to draw her sword before handing it to Buffy.

Buffy hesitantly took the sword and eyed Ma'at warily. "What made you change your mind?"

"Isfet did," Ma'at said cryptically, removing her cloak and handing it to Buffy. "Follow me, but not too closely. If I get into trouble, don't risk your escape. He needs you to end the world. Do what you can to get out."

Buffy nodded and prepared to face whatever was to come next.


End file.
